I’m not the woman I once was…I know the hurt, the battle within.
I’m not the woman I once was… I’m not the mama I once was… but I’m me, please take me as I am, full of flaws… I know the hurt, the battle within.
My own mother was devoid of feeling towards most of her children, and I was the perfect black sheep in her eyes. She wasn’t affectionate, didn’t hug, or show love as I grew up. If she did show to any my siblings, I never once saw it. I told myself that I would the opposite with my own children, if I were to be blessed by God and given the gift of children.
I was blessed with three boys and one daughter (from my second marriage). My first born died in utero (inside me), labor was induced, and Shane was stillborn. I was crushed…
View original post 1,323 more words
Unquantifiable loss – impossible to express or measure in terms of quantity. When loved ones pass it is a sad time, indeed. More so for those who are parents and have lost a child/children – for that kind of loss is truly the King of Loss. Late yesterday, I found out that a dear lady called by her nick name, Ardy, (and Hannah in my memoir, When Angels Fly), had passed on. Shocked is an understatement. I found out via a text, and had hoped to talk later that last evening on the phone. I can understand the text, and in the end, I, too, had to let my son know the same via text for several reasons. I have tried to explain how much this lady meant to me and my son, but one can’t quantify or understand. One can understand that she was like a grandmother to many children, and like a mother to myself. But one can’t understand, or truly appreciate just what this loss meant. You see, Ardy was much more, loyal to children, and treated everyone fairly. She was more for my only living son – she was his protector 24/7 while I was 250 miles away with my youngest son fighting a huge cancer battle. Essentially, she fostered my son with love and care in abundance, and she battled my mother and my son’s father in preventing them from abusing my son, only six years old at the time. Honestly, I have no idea why I’m blogging this, but I do know I needed to vent my feelings and I thank those of you who have graciously allowed me to do so.
If any of you you can send anyone my way top set up Mail Chimp, I would pay for the service, if not too high, please and thank you.
So, newsletters are all the rage, so cleverclogs here thinks she will start one. What a good way to promote other writers and also share news and views.
To be honest, I’d not checked any others out, but I got so carried away with issue one that I was even more enthusiastic with number two. Now it’s not a newsletter any more, it’s more like a magazine. I think it will be easier to navigate once I have discovered how to set up a landing page, and pepper it with lots of links, but in the meantime I guess readers can just scroll down and peruse whatever takes their fancy.
So, how did it get to be so large? Firstly in February’s edition I am featuring these authors. Know who they are?
Two other authors, whose pics I’m not going to post, plus a reader
And do you know where…
View original post 198 more words
By Beth Haslam
I have just finished reading this funny book by Beth Haslam. My review follows Haslam’s book blurb found on Amazon.
“Buying a country estate in France seemed such a simple thing to accomplish. When Beth, her irascible husband Jack, and their two fat dogs set off, little do they know that it will become such an extraordinary adventure. Surviving near-death experiences, they drive thousands of kilometres around French estates steeped in history and crazy aristocrats. Will they find their dream home, or return to Britain defeated? This is the hilarious first instalment in the Fat Dogs series.”
This book is about moving from England to rural France and what happens in the process. The story is well-written with more than adequate descriptions, which is nice for the mind to visualize. Haslam uses funny moments as she is optimistic whereas her husband complains, and is rather grumpy. The drawings are a nice twist to see in a memoir. I feel that this books ending could have been better, if a home had been found, and then the next books of the series continued onward.
Guest Post by Deborah Cooke (Abridged from a version originally published on www.deborahcooke.com)
Book charms are adorable and readers love them. I’ve bought them in the past from Etsy vendors, but when I realized I needed at least 100 of them for an event last August, I decided to try making my own.
A big part of this decision was that I found little blank books in the dollhouse section at the craft store. They have paper pages and little covers, which are so much more realistic than book charms made of clay. Since these look like little hardcover books, I decided to make slipcovers for them (instead of just gluing my front cover on the book). This is, of course, the Hard Way, but I think the result is worth the trouble.
View original post 807 more words
by Allison Maruska
There are many rules that govern our writing and language use. Ever useful, sometimes changing, and occasionally bizarre.
There are some rules I just can’t seem to learn. My brain refuses to let them in, and I have to look them up every single damn time I need to use them. One of those is the lay/lie/laying/lying differences. Grammar Girl comes in handy with that one.
View original post 431 more words